Whistle in the Dark
by MissFeral
Summary: The boys take a trip to England, but end up being imprisoned in a medieval dungeon with a sadistic torturer. How long can they last?
1. Chapter 1

The Marx Brothers decided to take a vacation one day. They went to England to visit the Dungeons of Warwick Castle. This castle was one of the biggest tourist-traps of dungeons. The four men took a wrong turn however. Instead of Warwick, they ended up in the Pontefract Castle.

This castle was not a place for tourists. It was a place for suffering, pain, and torment.

When they entered, the brothers were immediately seized by guards and taken to an enormous torture chamber. There were traces of blood on the floors and graffiti on the walls. Sections of human bones could be seen in the corners. Gray light came in through the small barred windows.

Chico, Harpo, and Zeppo were all tied down to the racks. Because there were only three racks, there was no room for Groucho, so he was placed inside an iron maiden with only his head protruding. Luckily, he was so thin that the spikes inside couldn't reach him. But Groucho had to remain perfectly still in order to keep from being stabbed by them.

Then a man in a black robe entered the room. His face was hidden by a hood. The brothers shook with fear as they awaited their fates. Harpo began to whistle frantically in an attempt to communicate with the torturer.

"Hey, you! This is all a big misunderstanding," Groucho tried to explain. "We don't belong here. We haven't done anything wrong. We're taxpaying citizens! Isn't that right, Chico?"

"Not exactly," Chico replied, "We don't even live in this a country…"

"My point exactly!" Groucho exclaimed, "If we don't live in this country, how could we possibly be in any trouble?"

The torturer just laughed and walked over to the racks. He grabbed the crank on Chico's rack and began to turn it slowly.

"Wait! You can't a do this to me! Don't I get a lawyer or a phone call or something?!" Chico cried.

"He's right. We haven't done anything wrong. You must let us go," Zeppo said, calmly.

Harpo just whistled noisily.

The torturer put his hands over his ears. "Will you stop that infernal chirping! It's getting on my nerves!" With that, he grabbed a cloth and rolled it into a ball. He then stuffed it into Harpo's mouth to gag him.

"Don't hurt us," Chico pleaded, "We can't stand pain!"

"If you release us now, we won't press charges," Zeppo said.

The torturer was silent for a moment. He seemed to be thinking.

Harpo made muffled noises through his gag.

"I have an idea," said the torturer. "I'll be right back. You gents stay right where you are…don't go away." With that, he walked out of the room with a dark chuckle.

The brothers were alone again, but were scared stiff. Three of them strapped down to racks, one of them trapped inside an iron maiden. There was no way out and no one to help them.

"This looks bad…this looks a really bad," Chico lamented.

"I wish he would let me of this iron sarcophagus," Groucho said, glumly. "I'm getting a terrible cramp…it started in my lower back and now it's headed straight down to my underpants area."

"Fellas, listen, we have to figure out a way to escape," Zeppo told them.

Innocent, angel-faced Harpo could only look around helplessly at his panicking brothers. With a gag in his mouth, he couldn't give them any advice even if he got an idea.

Then the torturer came back into the room, bringing in three goats on leashes. He put the goats in the middle of the room, and then walked over to Chico, Harpo, and Zeppo. He removed their shoes and socks.

"Hey, what's with the goats?" Groucho asked from the iron maiden, "What are you gonna do to my brothers?"

The torturer held up a bucket. "See this bucket? It's full of salt water and the goats love to eat it. I'm going to pour it all over your bare feet and the goats will have a banquet."

Groucho watched as the torturer poured a generous amount of salty liquid on his brothers' bare feet.

When all was ready, the torturer released the goats and let them wander over to the helpless men. The thirsty goats sniffed the air and followed the tantalizing smell of the salt-drenched feet.

Chico giggled and twitched as a goat began to nuzzle at his naked soles. "Hehehe, no, stop it, hehe, go away…"

"What do you expect to accomplish by doing this?" Groucho asked the torturer.

"The goats have very rough tongues," the torturer replied, "If they lick flesh long enough, it will eventually wear down until there is nothing left. Your brothers' feet will be licked right down to the bone."

Groucho's eyes widened. "Why, this is the wickedest thing I ever heard!"

The torturer chuckled darkly and sat down to watch the fun.

The goat began to savagely lick Chico's soles, causing him to burst into hysterical laughter.

"NO STOP! THAT TICKLES! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA IT TICKLES SO BAD HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!"

"Good," said the torturer. "But after a while the tickles will end and you'll be crying out in agony as the flesh is ripped right from your soles.

Another goat came up to Zeppo and began to lick his soles. The youngest of the group held his breath and bit down on his lip. But soon he was laughing just as hysterically as Chico.

"HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEHEHEHEHE NOOOO THIS IS INHUMAN! HAHAHAHAHAHAAAHAAHAHAHAHAHA PLEASE!"

Harpo could only produce muffled screams when a goat started licking his feet. Within seconds, tears were falling down his cheeks.

The three men squirmed and struggled to free themselves but the racks held them securely. Their heads whipped from side to side, banging against the hard wooden board beneath them in the process. It wasn't long before all three of them had tears pouring down their cheeks. The goats dragged their long tongues up and down their soles and even licked between their toes.

"AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OOOOOHH PLEASE MAKE THEM STOOOP! HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE I CAN'T STAND IT! I'M TICKLISH! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAVE MERCY!" Chico screamed, fighting against his restraints.

"THEY'RE GONNA KILL US! HAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA! HEEHEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEE! WE'RE GONNA DIE HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH LAUGHING!" Zeppo shrieked.

Harpo's face turned a darker shade of red than the others. With the gag crammed into his mouth, he was unable to let the laughs out and it drove him mad. It was getting terribly hard to breath. Tears streamed down his face in rivers.

Half an hour passed before the ticklish threesome was finally given a break. The goats started to lose interest in their feet when the salt solution ran out. So, the torturer grabbed the bucket and applied more salt water to their feet. He noticed that their soles had turned bright pink from all the licking.

The goats resumed licking and the dungeon was filled with howls of laughter once again.

The torturer knew that after another hour or two, the poor saps would be screaming in agony instead of laughter. He grinned sadistically at the thought. It made him so happy to see people in pain.

Groucho was understandably disturbed to see his brothers suffering this way. He wanted to cover his ears but he couldn't reach them. "Hey, can you let them rest? Everything echoes in this iron chamber!"

The torturer didn't reply. Groucho wasn't sure if it was because he didn't hear him or because he was just ignoring him. Either way, Groucho knew that neither he nor his brothers were getting out of there anytime soon.


	2. Chapter 2

Groucho, Chico, Harpo, and Zeppo were eventually released from their torture devices, only to be led by guards to another room. This room was similar to the first one they had been in. There were many creative devices and tools placed around the room – each one designed to cause pain to prisoners. Chico, Harpo, and Zeppo were still barefoot. The soles of their feet had been licked raw by goats. Simply taking a step was an extremely painful experience for the poor guys. Groucho was relieved to get out of the iron maiden but he wondered what kind of anguish they would be put through next. There were several sets of iron handcuffs lined up against the wall. The cuffs were attached to chains so that the victims wouldn't be able to escape. Chico, Harpo, and Zeppo were chained to the wall with their hands over their heads. They were stretched out so they could only stand on their tiptoes. Groucho expected to be chained up as well but he was left alone.

"It's time for the second session of your torture," said the torturer.

"No more tickling!" Chico begged, "Our poor feet can't stand anymore."

"Mine hurt like the dickens," Zeppo whimpered.

Harpo tried to whistle his protests but he still had the gag in his mouth.

The torturer pulled out a knife and walked over to the defenseless men. They cried out in fear as they thought he would kill them, but instead, he cut their shirts right off their bodies.

Now bare-chested, the brothers wondered what the torturer had planned for them.

Then the torturer walked over to Groucho and whispered in his ear, "Tickle the shit out of them."

"What?! Are you crazy?"

"Do it or I'll slit their throats," said the torturer as he waved the knife.

Groucho didn't have a choice. He walked up to Chico, who was looking at him with confused eyes.

"What did he tell you to do?" Chico asked.

"He, uh, told me to tickle the shit out of you. Sorry, old pal."

"NO! You can't!" Chico cried.

Groucho leaned close to him and whispered, "Look, he says he'll kill you if I don't. Just try to hold out, okay?"

"Okay," Chico said, meekly.

Groucho brought his hands close to Chico's bare waist, causing him to flinch away in horror.

"No, wait! I changed my mind!" Chico blurted out.

Groucho grabbed his brother's stomach with gentle hands and began to squeeze it.

Chico burst into squeals of laughter. He struggled and squirmed, rattling his chains as he tried in vain to pull his arms down.

"AAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA STOP PLEASE! DON'T TICKLE ME AHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA! HEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEE!"

Groucho ignored his pleas, though it pained him to do so. He scribbled his fingers all over Chico's naked belly and ribs.

Chico threw his head back as he howled with laughter. He tried to kick but the guards had tied his legs together to limit movement.

"I hate to do this," Groucho told him, "but I trust you'll forgive me."

"Don't forget his belly button," said the torturer.

Groucho stuck his index finger inside Chico's belly button and wiggled it around, causing Chico to nearly jump out of his chains.

"AAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOT THERE! NOOOOOO PLEEEEASE STOOOOP! HEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE! IT TICKLES SO MUCH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Chico screamed, tears flowing freely down his cheeks.

Groucho continued scratching the inside of his brother's naval with his finger. He cringed at his brother's shrieking laughter and pleas for relief. He wanted to show mercy but how could he? The evil torturer wouldn't allow it. Groucho had no choice but to tickle torture Chico until he was given permission to stop.

"Hey, can I stop now?" Groucho asked, "I think he needs a break."

"You'll stop when I say you can stop!" barked the torturer.

The tickling went on for ten minutes, which seemed like a thousand years to poor Chico.

"Now if you're satisfied, I would like to take my brothers and leave this crummy castle," Groucho said, "We would like to go to a restaurant now. I have an appetite for something large…"

"You want something large? That can be arranged." With that, the torturer reached into his cloak and pulled out a stiff brown feather more than twelve inches long. He gave the feather to Groucho and told him to get started on his kid brother Zeppo.

"Why?!" Zeppo cried, twitching away as the feather teased at his bare stomach.

"Because you all trespassed on this property," explained the torturer. "This is the penalty for trespassers. Now enjoy your suffering!"

"No, Groucho, please…"

"The bastard says he'll cut your throat if I don't tickle you," Groucho whispered.

Zeppo took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Fine, just…just get it over with."

Groucho started swirling the feather in big circles on Zeppo's belly. He let the tip of the feather slip into his belly button and also used it to brush along his ribcage.

Within seconds, Zeppo was laughing hysterically and blubbering for mercy.

"NOOOOO AAAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! STOP STOOOOP! HOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO THIS IS TORTURE! PLEASE AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Groucho rolled his eyes. How much longer must this madness go on? He had to figure out a way to escape but he couldn't think clearly, not with his baby brother laughing his head off and crying to him for mercy. It upset Groucho very much.

"Get his armpits! I want to see those tears!" barked the torturer.

"Whatever you say, your majesty," said Groucho, sarcastically. "Your wish is my command…"

"NONONO NOT THERE! PLEEEEEASE AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH STOOOOP! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOOOO MOOORE!" Zeppo wailed as Groucho tickled his underarms with the huge feather.

"Laugh till you pee, junior," chuckled the torturer.

"Shut up, Grim Reaper," mumbled Groucho.

The tickle torture of Zeppo lasted for ten minutes. Then the torturer looked over at Harpo and said, "Last but not least…"

"No, not Harpo!" Groucho protested.

"Yes! Yes, Harpo! Get to it!"

"I can't do this anymore," Groucho lamented, "Haven't you got a heart somewhere in that cold, wicked body of yours?"

The torturer yanked out his knife and put the blade against Harpo's throat. "I said GET TO IT!"

"You have a special place in Hell waiting for you," Groucho said, angrily.

The torturer laughed. "I know. I've seen it."

Groucho walked over to Harpo with despair in his heart. Why Harpo? Why sweet, innocent Harpo?

With a heavy heart, Groucho dug his fingers into Harpo's belly and squeezed it mercilessly. He wiggled his index finger around in his belly button and scribbled on his ribs and in his armpits.

Harpo had a gag in his mouth and all that could be heard was muffled laughter and screaming. He had tears running down his face within seconds. He bucked and squirmed and writhed.

"This is so fun!" chuckled the torturer, "I think I'll have to keep you gents here for a long time to come!"

After Harpo had his turn being tickled, the guards came in and dragged the four brothers to another part of the dungeon. The men were thrown into separate cells, where it was pitch black and dirty and lonely. Here they would stay until the next session of torture. Harpo was finally able to take his gag off. He tried to cheer himself up by whistling a happy tune.


	3. Chapter 3

The guys were released from their cells the following day and brought into a room. It took a moment for their eyes to get adjusted to the light after being in the dark for so long. There were four sets of stocks in the room. Groucho, Chico, Harpo, and Zeppo were stripped of their shoes and socks and placed into the stocks. Their wrists and ankles were locked in tightly. Their toes were tied back with string to limit movement. The men were all trembling with fear except for Groucho, who just sat there with a look on his face that said, _I'm getting tired of this game!_

Then the torturer walked into the room.

He was an odd character, the torturer. The guys never saw his face because he always wore a black hood over his head. But just seeing that black figure moving towards them was enough to strike terror into the hearts of the Marx brothers. The guys had been through so much abuse already at the hands of this fiend.

"Good morning, gents!" he quipped. "Guards, bring them some bread and water. We have to keep them well nourished so they'll be in good shape for session three of their torture."

The burly guard nodded and left the room for a moment. He returned carrying a sack of bread and a water jug. He strolled over to the brothers and crammed some moldy bread into their mouths. He grabbed their chins in his big hand and poured water down their throats. He would slap their faces if they let any bread or water spill out of their mouths.

It wasn't the best breakfast the brothers had ever eaten, but they were starving.

"That will do," said the torturer, coming forward.

The guard nodded and returned to his post.

The torturer looked at the soles of their feet to see if they had healed from the goat tongue torture. "Looks good down here," he told them. "Your feet are almost back to normal. That's good."

"Why do you care?" Chico asked, grimly. "You no care what kind of pain we go through."

"No, I don't care," said the torturer. "But I'm glad your tootsies are replenished because now they are all ready to be tortured again!"

"Not more goat licking!" Zeppo protested.

The torturer shook his head. "No, this time I'm going to get very hands-on. I'm going to have the enjoyment of tickling you myself…and I'm very good at it, believe me."

"Have you no mercy?!" Chico cried.

"None," replied the torturer.

"Hey, is there something we can call you?" Groucho asked out of the blue. "I mean, since we've been spending so much time together, we should be able to call you something."

"What would you _like_ to call me?"asked the torturer.

Groucho did his trademark eyebrow waggle. "Oh, what a loaded question...Well, there are lots of things I would _love_ to call you, but I can't say any of them in front of my kid brother Zeppo."

"Just call me Mr. Death."

"Death, eh? Where did you ever get such a jolly surname?"

"Never mind!"

"Well, Death, let's get down to business. So, what kind of inhuman torture are you going to inflict on us today? Scaphism, rats, choke pear, or bamboo shoots under our toenails?"

"Take a guess," chuckled Death.

"Do anything you want to us, just don't tickle us anymore!" Zeppo begged.

"We can't stand another second," Chico added.

"Well, that's too bad!" Death sneered, "Because you're going to be tickled anyway!"

"But we apologized for trespassing in your castle," Chico reminded him, "We no deserve to be punished anymore."

Death glanced at Harpo. "I noticed you haven't said very much."

"He's a mute. He no talk to anybody," said Chico.

"Do you want to get out of here?" Death asked Harpo.

Harpo nodded with great vigor.

"Open your mouth."

Harpo opened his mouth and Death stuffed a ball gag into it.

"Hey, hey, why are you always gagging him?" Groucho inquired, "The poor soul doesn't talk."

"Maybe not, but he whistles and it drives me crazy," replied Death.

"You were crazy before you ever met my brother," Groucho retorted.

Death came over and grabbed his throat. "You will be the first one I torture!"

"Oh, don't say that…you'll scare me," Groucho mocked him.

Death growled and ran over to Groucho's stocked feet. He chuckled evilly as he rubbed his hands together and sat on a small stool. He ran his index fingers lightly up and down his exposed soles.

Groucho didn't even react. Death began tickling faster, until he was scribbling his fingers all over Groucho's soles. No reaction.

"It's no fun having a victim that doesn't laugh, am I right?" Groucho asked, smirking.

Death began tickling Groucho's feet furiously, trying very hard to get a ticklish reaction out of him.

"Give up, sucker," said Groucho.

Death stood up and shook his fist at the smug prisoner. "I guess I'll just have to get out the thumbscrews for you!"

"Oh goody, can I have a side of fries with that? That breakfast you gave us wasn't very filling."

"Shut up!"

"Ooh, with lots of ketchup."

"Silence!" Death raised a hand to smack him.

"Don't waste your time with him, boss. Torture the other prisoners," said the guard.

"I think I will. Put the thumbscrews on this one!"

"Yes, boss." The guard got out four thumbscrews…two for his thumbs and two for his big toes.

"Uh oh…I think this is gonna be the most painful thing I've ever felt," Groucho said, nervously.

Meanwhile, Death was about to get started with his three ticklish victims. He pulled out a huge red feather and began to tickle Chico's bare feet.

"AAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I NO CAN STAND IT! PLEASE STOP! HAHAHAHAAAAAHAHAAHA! STOP TICKLING MY FEEHEEHEEHEEHEET!" Chico screeched.

"Coochie coochie coo," Death teased happily. He let the feather glide slowly along Chico's soles.

"PLEASE HAAAHAHAHAHAAAAAAHAHHAHAHAHAHA! HELP, HELP! HEEHEEHEEHEHEHEHEHEEE!"

Death dragged the feather back and forth between his toes and also tickled the undersides of them. "This little piggy went to market. This little piggy stayed home…"

Chico threw back his head and screamed with laughter. His toes were his weakest spot. He bucked wildly in his seat as he tried in vain to pull his feet away. His face turned beet red and huge tears ran down his cheeks.

Death tickled him nonstop for thirty minutes. Then he strolled over to Harpo and sat down beside his restrained bare feet. Harpo panicked and tried to pull his feet away but the stocks held his ankles firmly in place.

Death laughed at him. "Nervous, silent boy? You should be!" With that, he glided the feather up and down Harpo's naked soles, causing him to explode with muffled screams and cry tears of mirth.

"Tickle tickle tickle!" Death said, chuckling.

Harpo's face turned beet red as he struggled frantically. All that could be heard was his muffled squeals.

Death tickled him relentlessly for thirty minutes. He then moved over to Zeppo, who was cringing and whimpering with fear.

"No…please," Zeppo whined.

"I hope you enjoy your suffering, junior," Death taunted as he stroked the feather along Zeppo's soles.

The young man was too weak to fight it. He burst into cackling laughter immediately. He threw his head back and bucked in his seat, but there was no escaping the tickle torture.

"AAAAAAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! STOOOOP I CAN'T TAKE IT! PLEEEEASE HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Zeppo screamed.

"You really do seem to be enjoying this!" Death said, laughing.

"NOOOO HAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NO MOOORE! HEEHEEHEHEEHHEHEEHEHEHE ANYTHING BUT THIS!"

Death dragged the feather back and forth between his toes, while he used his fingers to scratch his heels and arches. He kept this up for thirty minutes.

"Well, I trust you all had fun during this third session of torture," said Death, when he was finally done.

"You…you can't do this to us!" Zeppo sobbed.

"I can and I am."

"You won't get away with this. OW! You'll be hearing from my lawyer. OW!" said Groucho, who was getting his thumbs and big toes pinched rather painfully by the thumbscrews.

Death laughed as he walked out of the room. "Guards, throw them back in their cells! Be sure to give them plenty of food and water. I don't want them to die until I've finished having fun with them. Tomorrow will be session four of their torture. Mwahaha!"


End file.
